Lone Wolf
by BensonFan711
Summary: As Olivia moves forward without Elliot, she reveals the true nature of their relationship. They were too close, lovers even. Will these two destined soul mates cross paths again? Or are they destined to be apart forever?
1. 1: Season 13

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own work, Dick Wolf owns the good stuff**_

_**Rating: M**_

**1: Season 13**

She thought she had developed a callous for the judicial system, that acquittals based on irrelevant facts had stopped getting to her. And yet, even now, it hurt just as much as it had during her first year in SVU. The worst part was that her desire to give the proverbial finger to perp had resulted in grounds for appeal - and she was going to have to answer for it.

"Liv," Cragen said. And this is where the storm begins. She supposed it was better to face the music now than to dwell on it. At least she could take her rip and move on. As he turned and headed into his office, she followed.

"Nice workin' with ya," she heard Fin call out. Maybe she had been doing this for too long, but if she gave it up, what would she have left? Besides, there was Elliot to think about. He'd be back sooner or later.

"I don't think she was lying about being raped," Olivia began, launching into her prepared defense, hoping that she might persuade him to see her point of view. And yet, his back was to her. She waited for him to contradict her or argue or agree or...something. Instead, he turned to face her, and she could already tell by the look on his face that whatever the news was would shatter her to her very core. He said it all with a single look, and yet, her brain refused to go to that place. It refused to let go of the one thing in her life that was beautiful and whole and right in her life - and yet, it was also her deepest, darkest secret.

"Would you shut the door, please?" Cragen asked her in that same tone she had only heard him use with her once, the day her mother died. She wanted to ask him what the problem was, or anything to fill the uncomfortable silence as he searched for words, but all she could feel was her stomach drop. This wasn't about the case. No, whatever this was made the case seem trivial.

"Elliot put his papers in," he told her as gently as he could, although it still felt like a boulder had just ran into her at top speed. He saw her shatter in front of him, and it broke his heart again. He hated to be the one to break the news to her, but it was the burden of command. "There was nothing I could do," he added.

"He's earned it," she replied, once she remembered how breathe again. And he had earned it. He had been wading through the muck in this unit since long before her. He had taken blow after blow in order to lock up the worst of the worst. She knew this day would come, but she didn't realize just how much she was dreading it.

"And then some," Cragen added immediately after her. At least she wasn't alone in her opinion of him; she was hardly objective. In her eyes, he was perfect. She felt her lower lip start to lose its composure. No, not here, she thought. She refused to break down in front of her commanding officer.

"You wanna talk?" he asked. Talk about what? About the relationship she had had with him for twelve years? Yes, they were partners, but there was so much more, and for everyone's sake, that secret would have to die with both her and Elliot. They were fused on such a level that she wasn't sure anymore where she stopped and he began.

"No," she managed to spit out.

"You wanna take a day?" he asked. Take a day and sit around in her apartment where there was nothing but memories of him? Hell, her sheets probably still smelled of his aftershave. At least a T-shirt or a pair of his boxers was probably in her laundry hamper. At least work provided a distraction. She could do something here and not think about it.

"I'm fine," she said, and her voice betrayed her. She swallowed hard, forcing the tears back into their little bottle. This was neither the time nor the place. She just needed to get the fuck out of here.

"Liv, I'm sorry," he added. She didn't dare open her mouth. Her composure was melting too fast. Instead, she nodded politely and headed back into the bullpen in search of a distraction - any distraction.

"You ok?" Fin asked. She nodded and hoped that she was hiding her bruised heart well enough not to raise suspicion.

"Got a 10-34 on Waverly," she heard Munch say. He looked in her direction, and she had faltered. The full impact of Cragen's words was hitting her. She and Elliot should be taking that call. And yet, he would never sit across from her again, never share a sedan and bad Chinese food on a stakeout, and perhaps never seek her comfort again.

"No, I'll go. Give me five and we'll roll," she said, raising her eyebrow at the end. Fin nodded, and she bolted again. She wasn't sure where she was headed exactly, but she needed time to herself. She just needed a chance to let it all out, and then she could do this. She'd done it before.

She passed the interview room and paused. It was empty now, and was likely to stay that way for a while. She pushed open the door and slipped inside, closing the door behind her. Now, she could allow those thoughts.

She always knew she was the other woman. Always. He had been clear about that with her from the beginning. She wept for the life she should have had, with him. She wept for the should haves, could haves, and would haves. She wept for the never to be's. Damn him, for leaving her here like this. Damn him for not caring about her. Damn him for taking the happy retirement at this moment she would give anything for. Damn him for going back to his wife.

As she cried, she faced a grim realization. She always claimed to married to the job, but now she wasn't sure if it was the job she was in love with, or him. She couldn't imagine sweating a perp in this very room without him. They could communicate in a single look. How was she supposed to replace that?

Her emotional pain was so strong that it ripped through her physically. She felt like she couldn't breathe, and yet, as long as the tears kept falling, strangely, it wasn't killing her. She wasn't sure how she would get through this, if she would get through this. She needed him to sweep her into his arms, make sweet, gentle love to her, and tell her that he would always love her.

Because he did. He really did love her.

_**Short and sweet, but I hope this has piqued some interest! Yes, we'll get into the backstory, and we'll start right at the beginning in the next chapter.**_

_**Love it? Hate it? Review it!**_


	2. 2: Season 1

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own work, Dick Wolf owns the good stuff**_

_**Rating: M**_

**2: Season 1**

She knew she was in trouble from the moment they met. What caught her eye first, she couldn't remember, but what sank forever in her memory were his eyes. Those deep, piercing blue eyes that could broadcasted his emotions regardless of the rest of his body language. Too many times she chastised herself for staring at his rippling biceps when he stretched, imagining what they would feel like wrapped around her body.

His impression of her was just as magnetic. The swagger in her walk drew his eyes straight to her backside every single time. He was convinced she would find him staring at her, practically salivating. He wanted to bury his hands in her hair, just to see what those gorgeous, thick, brown locks felt like. And yet, he was keenly aware of his wife and four children at home. However much he wanted to pursue something with Olivia, he could never leave his wife. Plus, she was his partner.

They easily fell in sync together, and after she had rotated through the other detectives, Cragen had decided to pair her with him. Elliot wasn't sure whether he should be thrilled or terrified. Over the first several months, he got down on his knees every night, begging God for the strength to resist her. What he didn't know, is that Olivia prayed to the very same God for the very same thing.

She had been to his house, met his wife and children, and genuinely liked them. He was obviously a proud father who made time for his children. His first mistake was mixing her into his personal life. He found himself inviting her over for dinner, mostly at his wife's insistence. The Stablers had always invited his partner over; there was no reason to stop with Olivia. But then he was talking about his daughter – his 12-year-old daughter – possibly having sex. Even as he heard the words pour out of his mouth, he couldn't believe them. He was violating one of his most basic rules: never mix home and work. And yet, she was so much easier to talk to than Kathy.

They might have been ok. They might have made it, if Richard White hadn't crossed their paths. Once he set his sights on Olivia, Elliot came face to face with the protector in him. The fact that Olivia was a cop and completely capable of taking care of herself went straight out the window. He didn't mind getting up early to escort her to work; although, she was quick to call him on his story about "being in the neighborhood." But he had to protect her. More importantly, he had to see her.

Truth be told, she didn't mind that he was being overly cautious. She was mildly annoyed with Munch when he did it, but with Elliot it was different. He had adamantly refused to let her use herself as bait initially to trap White, but in the end, he knew he had to back down. He had no real reason to be upset about it, other than the fact that he didn't want her in the line of fire. Olivia had failed at getting White to cop to using the gun, and so they had landed at a bar, drowning their sorrows in several beers – too many beers.

She matched him pint for pint, and he just found himself even more attracted to her. Not only was she beautiful, sexy, and smart, but she could hold her liquor, too. For Elliot, she was like the best friend a guy could ask for in that she understood how guys think, yet she had a body that would turn any head. So as he slipped farther and farther into his alcoholic stupor, his mind went farther into the darkness he was trying to avoid.

Before he knew what was happening, they were in her apartment, on her couch. His lips were on hers, her legs were straddling him, his hands were buried in that thick, luxurious hair. It was even more electrifying that he could have possibly imagined.

"Liv, what are we doing?" he asked through his drunken fog.

"I would have thought that was obvious by now," she said with a smirk, lowering her hands to the hem of his shirt. She lifted it, exposing his chest to her, and for the first time, she was allowed to touch. She ran her fingers over every ripple, mapping every inch of his upper body.

"You sure you want to do this?" he asked, between kisses.

"Just say the word, and I'll stop," she whispered. But he didn't want her to stop. He knew she was drunker than he was, but the feel of her fingers grazing every inch of exposed skin was turning him on more than he could ever remember experiencing with his wife.

"Olivia…" he moaned. For a brief second, she came to her senses. She remembered that he was married, and she pulled back. She couldn't do this. She couldn't sleep with someone else's husband. It just wasn't right.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"We can't. You have a wife, and…" she started, but he silenced her with a kiss. His tongue battled hers for dominance, and she succumbed for a moment. Then she pushed him away again. "Your wife," she said again. The alcohol must have kicked in again because the next thing out of his mouth shocked even him.

"I don't care," he said. "What I feel for you is real, and not like anything I've ever felt for her."

"Is that you talking, or the booze?" she asked.

"Maybe the booze gave me the courage to say it, but it's coming from me," he said. "Please…," he begged her. And it was those eyes. Those damn, blue eyes. She melted, partly from the alcohol, and partly from the alcohol still flowing through her veins.

"Ok," she whispered. He scooped her up in his arms, feeling her wrap hers around him tightly as he carried her to her bedroom and laid her gently on the bed.

"Olivia, he moaned, caressing her face and kissing her passionately again. His hands found their way under the shirt she was wearing, and he felt her abs ripple in response to his touch. A small moan slipped past her lips as skin met skin. Her body moved underneath his as she spread her legs for him. He had to see her, but not too fast. His lips traveled farther down her body to wear his hands were, and he lifted her shirt slowly, drinking in every inch of her body, worshipping it with small kisses. Her tummy was still flat and toned, unblemished by multiple pregnancies and shaped by hours in the gym. He pushed the shirt higher, finally over her head. Her hair fanned around her face as he drank her in, zeroing in on the white lace bra covering her shapely breasts. He had every intention of going slow and sensual, and suddenly, her hands were on him, pushing him, rolling him so he was under her.

"Stop playing games," she said, unable to take the slow torture. Her hands went for his belt, unbuckling it and ripping it from his pants and flinging it to the side. She popped the button and inched the zipper down over the sizable bulge. He seized the opportunity to reach behind her and flip the clasp on her bra, freeing her breasts from their confines. Tossing the lace garment aside, his hand cupped one, and he marveled at the size. She fit perfectly in his hand – not to big, not too small.

She continued on her mission, undressing his lower half, seeking the object of her immediate desire. Her hand wrapped around him, and he groaned. She felt so good on him. He stared at her, and she lifted her head, blue eyes meeting brown. She bit her lower lip and smiled, before lowering that mane of dark brown hair to him and encasing his engorged member in the heat of her mouth.

"Jesus, Liv…" he moaned. He couldn't remember the last time Kathy had gone for anything like this, and yet Olivia's lips slid lower on him. Slowly at first, until he felt the back of her throat. Just like her breasts had fit so perfectly in his hand, his cock seemed to fit perfectly in her mouth. She worked her tongue over him, teasing the sensitive ridge underneath the head, licking the slit at the top, switching up her rhythm to always keep him on edge. He couldn't help but thrust into her mouth. His hand worked into her hair, stroking it gently, until he needed more. He nudged her lower half closer so that he could slip her pants off, dragging her panties with them. Guiding her gently, but firmly, he shifted her so that she was straddling his face.

He gazed at her glistening pussy in awe. She was practically dripping with wetness already. Tentatively, he ran a finger along her slit, earning him a muffled moan as she continued to work him. He slipped a finger inside her, working it gently. She was tight, almost impossibly tight. He hope that he wouldn't hurt her. As he worked a finger inside her, his lips joined, lapping at her juices, which seemed to be flowing from her with no end. As she loosened, one finger turned to two. His lips found her clit, and his cock dropped from her mouth, as she gasped in pleasure.

"Elliot…oh, God, Elliot…" she moaned. He couldn't wait anymore. He had to have her. He rolled them so that she was underneath him once again, and lined up with her entrance.

"Are you sure about this? There's no going back," he told her.

"Don't you dare make me say it again," she replied, grasping his ass and pushing him into her. He was worried about hurting her, but he shouldn't have been. He easily slid into her, finding her to be, once again, a perfect fit. It was almost as if her body had been custom made to fit his. He thrust into her, knowing he wouldn't last long. She was just too damn good. His fingers found her clit, and he experimented with patterns and positions, rubbing it until he found a rhythm that drove her crazy. She was a pile of mush underneath him, moaning nothing coherent, lost in the waves of pleasure sweeping over her.

"Liv…I think I'm going to…" he started, panting.

"Me too. Stay…right…there…" she moaned.

"What about…" he started to ask, but he should have known she could read his mind.

"I'm on the pill," she panted. He smiled down at her, bathed only in the light from the city lights that poured in through her window. He picked up his tempo, and found her crying out his name quickly enough. She clamped down around him, and the increase in friction was all he needed to reach his own climax. He came – hard, collapsing on top of her, careful not to crush her. When they had both recovered, she rolled in his arms so they were spooning, and each drifted off into a sound sleep.

When her alarm went off the next morning, she thought she was dreaming. It wasn't often she woke up wrapped in the arms of a man. But then she saw the crucifix tattoo on his arm, and she knew what she had done. She slipped out of his arms and crawled into the shower. She swore this wouldn't…no, couldn't happen. She cursed herself through the entire shower, until she admitted that she had liked it. She had felt whole and complete with him, and it was unlike anything else she had ever experienced. She didn't want to give him up, and yet, she knew she would have to.

When she exited the bathroom, wrapped in a fluffy white robe, she saw him sitting on the edge of the bed. He had pulled on his boxers, and his head was buried in his hands.

"Elliot…" she began. She needed to apologize, to assure him that this would never happen again.

"Don't, Liv. Don't apologize for anything," he answered. She lowered herself onto the bed next to him."

"I can't leave my wife," he said. She would never ask him to do that anyway.

"I don't expect you to. We both got drunk, and we made a mistake," she said.

"Did we? Make a mistake, I mean?" he as, finally looking at her. "Because I don't think so. I can't leave my wife, but I don't think I can go the rest of my life without being with you."

"Elliot…" she began, and he could already read her answer. He wanted her to be the other woman, and that just wasn't fair to her. She was too proud, too special to be forced into that kind of position.

"Don't, Liv. Don't say anything yet. Let's just see where this takes us," he said. And that, she could agree with.

But they had crossed a line that couldn't be uncrossed, and discovered the beginning of something far more powerful than either of them could imagine.

_**Ok, there ya go. Just a little first time smut to get the ball rolling. There will be more…much, much more, especially as this story evolves. We've got 12+ years of story to cover!**_

_**Love it? Hate it? Review it!**_


	3. 3: Season 1

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own work, Dick Wolf owns the good stuff. Canon still stands; I'm just filling in the gaps.**_

_**Rating: M**_

**3: Season 1**

The most valuable lesson Olivia learned growing up with an abusive alcoholic mother was how to hide her true feelings. Each morning she strapped on a mask of professionalism and did her job to the best of her ability. Elliot was inclined to give her some space; his request almost certainly had seemed preposterous to her. Maybe it would just be better if he ignored the whole thing as it seemed she had decided to do.

And yet, he couldn't.

Every time he looked at her, he couldn't help but visualize her naked body – which he had now seen – under him. When she spoke, he couldn't help but hear her moaning his name as she orgasmed hard underneath him. And every time she took a drink from her coffee cup, he remembered how her lips felt wrapped around his dick.

God, he needed her. He was like a hopeless addict, lost in the drug that was Olivia Benson. He wasn't interesting in rehab; he was just interested in getting more. Then came another wretched case, involving what appeared to be autoerotic asphyxiation. The investigation led them deeper into the victim's world, and at one point, he was in a lab, staring at a full blown dominatrix outfit. But now, instead of seeing the clothes for clothes or evidence, his mind strayed, and he pictured Olivia in them. Hell, that was happening every time he saw female clothing, period. But the only thing he could offer her was the role of mistress, and she was too good for something so despicable. He'd never be able to acknowledge her publicly as his significant other because to give her that, he'd have to break his vow to his wife.

He made that bargain long ago, after one stupid night at a party. He ended up having awkward, teen sex with Kathy, and nine months later, Maureen was born. There was only one option for Elliot; he had to marry her and take responsibility for his actions and his child. He tried to make it work, and he loved Kathy, on some level, but he wasn't sure he was ever _in _love with her. Duty, honor, obligation – that's what drove Elliot Stabler. His earlier mistakes sentenced him to a marriage free from the carnal type of passion he didn't know existed until last night. But, his vow to Kathy was "til death do us part," not "til love do us part."

He couldn't take it anymore. He had to know where her mind was, and that would mean acknowledging that what they had done wasn't simply a mistake on either of their parts. But she was avoiding him, and he was pretty sure he knew why. Finally, after days of trying to talk to her, he managed to catch her alone in the bullpen. Everyone else was either out on a call or home for the evening. She stood up to pour herself another cup of coffee, and he finally had the courage to confront her.

"So, is this how it's going to be between us from now on?" he asked as he hovered over her shoulder. He longed to touch them, but he didn't dare at this point. She put the pot back on the burner before she spoke.

"I'm…not sure what you're talking about. We're fine," she said, in an attempt to end the conversation. She sidestepped him and headed back to her desk, but Elliot wasn't about to let her off that easy. Instead of returning to his own desk he leaned over her shoulder.

"You've been cold and distant since we…" he began.

"Since you asked me to be your mistress?" she confronted bluntly. He blushed, not sure where to proceed.

"You said you'd think about it, so I was just wondering…" he tried again.

"I did, and I don't know what I was thinking. El, you're married. _Married,_" she said, trying to drive her point home. "Doesn't that ring on your finger mean anything to you?" Instinctively, he reached for the gold band on his finger and twisted it.

"It does. It means I knocked up a girl when I was a teenager and did right by her," he said. "But I was never in love with her, Olivia. I may not have known it at the time, but I know it now."

"No, Elliot, I won't do it. I won't be the reason your marriage ends," she said. With that, she turned back to the file in front of her, making it clear that the conversation was over. Elliot nodded and returned to his desk, trying to focus on something that wasn't her.

"So, that's it?" he asked once more.

"That's it," she said, without even looking up. While her outward appearance was confident and decisive, her heart was breaking with every word she spoke. She had done what she had to do; she wouldn't let him force her into the mistress role, and yet, she wished her own ethics would allow her to take him up on his offer. The selfish part of her wanted him, in any way, because something was better than nothing. Sleeping with him had been a mistake, and she could live with a mistake. What she couldn't live with was a conscientious decision to steal another woman's husband. Fortunately for her, as her conversation ended with Elliot, Munch and Cassidy returned.

"Cassidy, you busy tonight?" she called across the bullpen. Cassidy looked at her quizzically. It was no secret he had been pining for her, too, but until now, she had never given him the time of day.

"No, why?" he asked.

"Wanna head down to Mulroney's and grab a beer?" she asked. Elliot couldn't believe what he was witnessing. This was precisely how his encounter with her had begun. He knew she would get hammered and Cassidy would wind up in her bed. At least, that was what he feared. And yet, Elliot couldn't object because to do so would expose the one indiscretion they had already shared. So he watched, staring her down as intensely as he could, while she gathered her things and left the precinct with Cassidy. "Oh, don't look like a hurt puppy," she told him. "It's nothing personal."

She and Cassidy talked about meaningless drabble while they shared a pitcher of domestic draft. Halfway into the second pitcher, the conversation shifted towards work. It was only natural, as it was one of the few things they had in common.

"How do you do it, Olivia? How do you listen to all those women tell you what they've gone through and still have fun in bed?" he asked. Olivia almost choked on her beer. This was far more personal than she usually went with co-workers – aside from Elliot.

"Well, I guess I've just figured out how to leave the horror at work," she answered.

"How?" he asked.

"You focus on the person you're _with_, not whatever you heard that day," she said.

"You know, you're the first woman I've actually been out with since I took this job, and I'm the kind of guy who can't even buy…supplies at the drugstore without getting embarrassed," he confessed. Olivia slid from her stool across from him to the one next to him.

"Maybe you just need to spend the night with a woman and find out," she whispered in his ear. He slowly turned his head towards her.

"Are you asking me…?" he tried to clarify.

"My place isn't too far from here," she said, raising an eyebrow, hoping that she was giving him enough of an invitation.

"Lead the way," he said. She grabbed his hand and they practically ran back to her apartment. As she fumbled with the keys, Brian took the opportunity to slip his arms around her waist and nuzzle her neck. She moaned at the touch, but managed to open the door, retrieve her key, and lock them both inside. Once inside though, he didn't touch her. He felt awkward and unsure, and he was haunted by the details of his most recent case.

"Stop," she said, draping her arms around his neck. "Stop thinking about all of that, and just focus on me." She kissed up his jaw, bringing her lips close to his ear. "Just focus on me," she repeated. She pressed her body close enough to his that she could feel him starting to stiffen. She gently took his hand and led him to her bedroom.

He was hesitant, even as her fingers reached for his belt. She kissed him, probing his lips with her tongue. Finally, he granted her entrance and their tongues mingled as she pulled the belt free from his pants. She ran her hand over his growing bulge, massaging it gently. He groaned as he stiffened under her hand, finally letting his instincts take over. He wanted her, almost as much as it seemed she wanted him. She opened his fly and sank to her knees, dragging his pants and boxers with her.

She massaged his dick, feeling it swell and grow in her hand, before leaning forward and licking the length with just the tip of her tongue. She teased him to the point where he wasn't sure he could take much more, and then she finally wrapped her lips around just the head. She pulsed on him, taking just the head in and moving back off again, keeping up her torturous teasing. He reached for her head, pulling as much of her hair back as he could so he could see his own dick disappear in and out of her mouth.

"Liv…" he moaned. Gradually, she started taking more and more of him into her mouth with each thrust, coaxing him into a full-fledged hard-on. His own hips started to thrust, wrapping his hands tighter into her hair, somewhat afraid that he was hurting her. But she never stopped. She just continued to take whatever he could give her.

"Yeah, baby…just like that," he said, panting slightly. He knew he would last long like this. He had dreamed about having her head in his lap for too long now. He pulled her off of him, and she understood. She stood up again, pulling at the first few buttons on her shirt. He batted her hands out of the way, grabbed both sides of the garment and pulled until it gave way, sending the buttons flying throughout the room, eliciting a shriek from her. He buried his face in the valley between her nude bra, pushing her towards the bed, stepping out of his pants and boxers pooled at his feet. When she fell back onto it, he followed as she shifted into a more comfortable position.

The atmosphere had changed. Instead of his hesitation, he seemed finally convinced that she was serious, and it became a battle for control. She tried to roll them, but he pinned her down, pulling the bra from her chest. His lips latched onto one of her nipples, and she stopped struggling, moaning in pleasure instead. She could feel a tingling in her own groin, wanting to be filled. He continued to tease and manipulate her nipple to a taught peak, and then switched sides, giving the other nipple the same attention. She tried several times to pull his shirt over his head, never quite managing to get the leverage she needed before another jolt rippled through her. He finally obliged, removing his own shirt as he released her nipple, with the intention of moving back to her lips, but she took the opportunity to roll them so she was on top.

He wanted more from her. She leaned in to kiss him, and his hands slipped under the waistband of her black work pants. He palmed her ass as she ground against him. His fingers worked inwards, sliding down to the juncture between her legs. She moaned into his mouth as his fingers found her wet pussy. Using one hand to brace herself, she reached down and undid her slacks so that he could slide them off of her. She was unsteady as she removed them, and Brian took the opportunity to maneuver them again so that she was on her hands and knees. She flexed her back, pushing her ass towards him, inviting him to where he wanted to be.

"Fuck me, Cassidy," she said, lust dripping from her voice. And he was happy to oblige. He pushed into her in one long, hard thrust, and was rewarded with another shriek, followed by a lingering moan. And he didn't let up. He just thrust into her harder and harder, almost as if he was punishing her for her earlier teasing. Her moans were one, long, continuous sound. She tried sit up, but he twisted a hand in her hair, pushing her back onto the bed. She buried her face in the pillow as he leaned forward to kiss at her neck. His kisses became more frenzied, turning to soft bites that were sure to leave marks. He found the spot on her neck that almost always sent her into oblivion.

All at once, she screamed into the pillow as her body shuddered, and she clamped down on him so tightly, he had to stop thrusting until she rode out her powerful orgasm. She screamed three more times before she finally fell silent, her cries replaced by pants. He started thrusting again, slowing his pace a little so that he didn't hurt her. Finally, he found his own release, shouting her name as he came hard inside her.

The both collapsed onto the bed, exhausted and spent. Cassidy drifted off to sleep almost immediately, but Olivia was lost in thought. As powerful and explosive as her orgasm had been, she wasn't eager to repeat this particular encounter again. Cassidy had scratched an immediate itch, and she had effectively proven her point; she didn't belong to Elliot Stabler. But now that it was over, she just wanted him out of her bed.

No matter what she had told Elliot earlier, his were the only arms she wanted on her naked flesh.

_**Ok, so how exactly **__***did* Elliot and Olivia wind up together? Next chapter should answer those questions…this is EO, after all!**_

_**Love it? Hate it? Review it!**_


	4. 4: Season 1

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own work, Dick Wolf owns the good stuff. Canon still stands; I'm just filling in the gaps.**_

_**Rating: M**_

**4: Season 1**

"Hey, I just stopped by to see how you were holding up," Elliot said when she opened her door. Her mouth opened to reply, but the words caught in her throat.

Months had passed since her one and only night with Cassidy, and even though Elliot had thrown a few pot shots at her about it, for the most part, he had left it alone. But, he had also been careful to keep his distance. There were no more nights spent in her apartment over white Chinese take out boxes, no more drinks at Mulroney's, no more offers to walk her home. He had taken her request to remain partners – and only partners – seriously.

And suddenly everything had changed.

She felt it instantaneously. It was like an electric shock that rippled through every molecule in and around the two of them. The case had started with a seemingly random murder of a respected judge. Of course, nothing is ever quite as it seems, and as they dug deeper and deeper into the case, the discovered that the judge had been accepting sexual favors in exchange for rulings on parole cases. One thing had led to another, and she found herself engaging an armed suspect, with his gun pointed at a woman's head in a laundry room. Elliot had engaged while she had been on back up.

She saw him raise the gun towards Elliot. He couldn't have pulled it too high – maybe a few inches – but in that instant, she saw his body on the ground covered in blood. She heard a doctor tell her that his injuries had been too extensive. She faced the prospect of her entire life playing out in front of her without him. The pain was so agonizing; she could have sworn it hurt to breathe. She needed him as much as he apparently needed her. She tried to convince herself that he was just a friend, and even though it might hurt to lose him, she would move on. But in that moment where everything was so raw and torn open and a decision had to be made, she had no other choice but to stare her heart in the face and let it slap her. She had done the only thing she could do.

She fired her weapon.

As the bullet cut through the air, it had a rippling effect, electrifying the energy and changing both of them in a way that would last forever. Until that point, she had never killed anyone in her career. The instant it was over, the magnitude of what she had done crashed around her with more fury that a Category 5 hurricane. A man was now dead because of a choice that she had made.

She had gone through the paperwork, surrendered her weapon per protocol, and waited for IAB to conduct their investigation. If that wasn't enough, at the same time, Brian Cassidy had suddenly transferred to Narcotics. She had thought it might come to that, given his performance anxiety, but she had thought there might be a little more warning. And yet, as she stood in the rubble of her life, there he was, with that lop-sided smile, checking up on her.

She was done with the façade of pretending everything was fine. She knew what she wanted, but it wasn't something he was free to give. She wanted him wholly and completely without obstacles. To hell with right and wrong.

When words failed her, she did the only thing she could think to do. She threw her arms around him and kissed him with a ferocity unimagined. Her tongue probed his mouth demanding, rather than asking, for admittance.

In a slight state of shock, he hesitantly parted his lips, and granted her whatever she needed. Her body pressed up against his so hard he was sure she was trying to push herself inside him. His tongue danced with hers until she pulled away, breathless.

"I think we should talk," he said, guiding them both inside her apartment and closing the door behind him.

"I don't want to talk; I just want you to fuck me until I can't remember my own name," she told him bluntly, capturing his lips once more, pressing her body flush against his. His body was taking on a life of its own, and hearing the desperation in her voice made him twitch.

_Twitch._

Fortunately, there was some part of his brain that was thinking rationally, albeit he wanted to shut that part of his brain down. And yet, he couldn't. With every ounce of strength he had, he grabbed her forearms and forced distance between the two of them.

"We really need to talk," he said again. Her eyes were wide and confused, with a hint of fear. Not enough to alarm him, but it was there nonetheless.

"Don't make me say it," she pleaded.

"Liv, you know I can't just do a one night stand. If we cross that line again, I won't be able to go back. Do you have any idea what it felt like to watch your run off and jump into bed with Cassidy?" he told her. Neither of them had moved.

"I know…I know…and, maybe that was the point. I just wanted to show that you didn't own me," she said. "But…"

"But I do," he filled in for her. Part of her hated the way that came out. No one owned Olivia Benson, but if she was completely honest with herself, her heart belonged to him and only him. And if she could have peered inside his head, she would have seen that his heart truly belonged to her. "You killed that man today because you thought he was going to take me from you, didn't you?" His tone was calm and even, yet pierced through every fiber of her being.

_No, _she thought.

"Yes," she heard herself whisper.

"Do you still want to do this?" he asked. She slackened under his grip as her knees weakened. He moved his hands over her arms, causing her to shiver slightly. She had tossed her blazer aside before he arrived, and it was only the thin material of her blouse separating his hand from her flesh.

"Absolutely," she said. He moved his hands inward to the buttons of her blouse. He shouldn't do this. She was still vulnerable, and he was taking advantage of her weakened state. And yet, he knew that if he didn't seal her to him at this moment, there was a good possibility he would lose her forever. There was a possibility that she would come to her senses in the morning, but he was willing to take that chance just to be with her tonight.

Her knees felt like jelly, and at this particular moment, she wasn't sure how she managed to keep herself from crumbling to the floor. She had expected him to outright refuse her, or some sort of power struggle, or…something. Instead, his eyes bore into hers and she could feel the room grow cooler as more of her skin was exposed. He leaned in, and she fully anticipated another searing kiss, but instead he brought his lips to her ear.

"I can help you this time, but if we ever put each other first again, it'll cost somebody a badge," he whispered. He wasn't talking about sex; he was talking about the shooting. She took his warning seriously, but before she could respond, his lips locked onto her neck just behind her ear, and her response came out as a strangled moan. His hand found the last button and freed it, allowing her shirt to fall open. Her skin rippled into goosebumps as he placed his hands on her flat stomach and swept across her skin to her back.

He felt her lean back, putting some of her weight in his hands. If he were to stop touching her at this moment, she would surely fall. He maneuvered her towards the nearest wall, pushing her against it so that he could continue with his mission. In a flash of coherence, she yanked the blouse from her body and discarded it, immediately returning to his arms and his roaming hands.

"Elliot, please…" she breathed. Olivia Benson begging. If he wasn't hard at that point, he certainly was now. The bulge in his pants was growing more and more uncomfortable by the second. He wanted to tear her clothes off of her and plunge into her, but that would end everything far too quickly for his liking.

"Please, El…" she panted again.

"Please what?" he said, nipping at her neck slightly. He ran his hands over her back, ignoring the clasp on her bra, and played with the waistband of her pants. He examined every inch of over covered backside with his fingertips, pulling her towards him so she could feel *exactly* the effect she was having on him.

"You know what. Please…" she begged again. Her hands had found his belt, and she was frantically trying to undo the front. He growled and grabbed her wrists, pinning them against the wall. He gauged her reaction carefully, for any sign that she wanted things more gentle. Instead, she moaned harder.

"You know what I think? I think someone's feeling a little guilty about what happened today," he whispered hotly in her ear. This was her opening. If she didn't want to play this little game, all she had to do was speak up right now. But she didn't. She relaxed even further under his touch. He moved his hands to undo her belt, and was pleasantly surprised to see her leave them pressed against the wall where he had just been holding them. Her belt whistled as he yanked it free from her pants. His lips found hers again as he worked the button and zipper on her slacks, letting them pool around her ankles. As she kicked off her shoes, ripped off her socks, and stepped out of her pants, she suddenly became keenly aware of the fact that he was still fully dressed while she sported nothing save for her flesh toned lace bra and matching bikini panties.

She had barely caught her breath when he was hovering over her, invading her personal space once more. His eyes studied her face intricately as he traced a line, lazily, with just a single finger, from her jawline, down her body to the waistband of her panties. He lingered for a moment, watching her breath hitch again in anticipation. His finger slipped beneath the elastic, tracing its way downward to the valley between her legs. When he reached his intended goal, a sly smile graced his face as he discovered the increasing flood of wetness there. He slid his finger over her folds, watching her face for…something. Any reaction at all. He grazed her clit briefly, just enough for a hint of a moan to escape her lips. With that, he pulled his hand away and spun her around.

With one large hand, he pinned her wrists above her head, while the other ripped the dainty lace from her lower half. With a practiced hand, he undid his own slacks, letting them fall enough to free his throbbing erection. In one swift motion, he entered her, burying himself to the hilt. She yelped at the sudden intrusion, which slowly tapered to a long, continuous moan. He started to thrust into her, feeling her entire body slacken under his touch.

"Mine," he whispered possessively in her ear. "All mine." He continued to thrust up into her, but he could also feel her slipping down the wall as her body refused to support her. Sensing her discomfort, he pulled out of her. She whimpered at the lack of contact, wanting him to fill her again. He paused long enough to step out of his own pants and steered her towards the couch, bending her over the back. He twisted a hand in her hair and pulled back as he lined himself up with her entrance again.

Her strangled cries, echoed off the walls as he plowed into her over and over and over, driving her higher towards oblivion. Though she would never admit it, she loved how rough he was being with her. She felt like she was getting the punishment she deserved for her earlier actions.

Elliot was mesmerized by the bouncing of her ass as he slammed into her. He was fascinated by everything this woman did in bed…or sofa, as the case may be. And then…and then he heard something come from her that he never thought he wanted to hear, but at the same time, turned him on immensely.

"Spank me," she cried.

"Liv…" he began.

"Just do it!" she barked. Well, who was he to argue with that? He pulled his free hand back and brought it down hard on her ass as he continued his relentless fucking. She screamed and shuttered at the contact.

"Again!" she yelled, panting. He brought his hand down again, slightly askew from the first blow, watching as the pattern of red handprints decorated her asscheek. The more he spanked her, the more she out of control she seemed to fly. After several good smacks, he switched tactics, seeking out her clit and rubbing it mercilessly. He knew she couldn't last much longer from the way she was gripping him. After a few minutes, she cried out in orgasm as every muscle in her body clenched simultaneously, causing him to spill into her harder than he ever had before.

He released her hair and slowed, bracing himself on the back of the sofa. She was slumped over it like a rag doll, panting and softly moaning in contentment. He composed himself faster than she did, and he began gently rubbing her ass where he had spanked her earlier.

"Liv?" he asked.

"God, that was…" she began.

"Yeah," he agreed. She pushed herself back up to a standing position, and he moved, slipping out of her, to give her space. When she turned to face him, with her hair tossled from his rough handling of her, he swore he had never seen anything so beautiful in his life. He traced his fingers gently over her face, mapping every inch of her skin. He kissed her tenderly, showing a sudden change from the roughness earlier.

"Feel better?" he asked.

"Oh…you have no idea," she said, sighing into him.

"Good. Because now I'm taking you to bed and making sweet love to you," he said, scooping her into his arms.

_**So, that's where it all began. Elliot totally took advantage of an Olivia who wasn't thinking clearly. Will it last? Even with Kathy in the picture? Will Olivia be ok with being a mistress?**_

_**Love it? Hate it? Review it!**_


	5. 5: Season 1

_**Ok, fair warning…this is about to take a turn towards the kinky, but after reviewing my notes on this story, I had to give Olivia a bit more backbone. The way she was going to act in later chapters was just…very un-Benson. So, this artistic choice was made to bring her back to the Badass Benson we all know and love.**_

_**So here's the new warning…contains consensual BDSM activity.**_

**5: Season 1**

Elliot followed through on his promise and helped Olivia through the IAB investigation. Before she knew it, she had her weapon back, and things were back to normal…whatever normal was. Elliot had taken to spending more "quality time" with his family, afraid that if he spent too much time with Olivia, Kathy may get suspicious. But now he knew that she was his. She was in this for the long run, for better or worse.

When he stared at her sitting at her desk across from him, he was allowed to imagine her bent over it while he fucked her from behind, cries and moans dripping from her lips. He knew what she sounded like during sex, which just made the fantasies that much hotter. When she interrogated a perp with him, he was allowed to imagine her flat on her back on the table, legs splayed, face scrunched as she traveled higher and higher to her peak. Yes, he was allowed all of the wicked thoughts he never was before.

The problem was, Olivia had come to her senses. She craved his touch, his lips, the feeling of him inside her, but he belonged to someone else. She wanted marriage and a family. Maybe not at this very moment, but someday, and those were goals she could never achieve with Elliot Stabler. And yet, when she imagined her life in front of her, she couldn't see any other man sitting across the breakfast table, cuddling on the couch with her, or wrapping his arms around her in bed.

She was stuck. Her head was telling her one thing while her heart screamed at her to throw caution to the wind. Every hour it seemed, she changed her mind about how willing she was to carry on with this. Although, if anyone could pull off an affair without getting caught, they could. They were both detectives; they already knew all the tricks. They knew how to cover their tracks so that no one, not even the famed NYPD would ever expect that they were together.

And then came the damned psych evals. Right in the middle of a case of a Romanian who had disappeared. Olivia got her notice for her evaluation, and Elliot could tell she was already on edge. She was cranky and jumpy all morning because, though she wouldn't admit it until she was asked directly, if she couldn't work Special Victims anymore, there was no real reason for her to exist. This was what she was born to do. So, when noon rolled around, and she had some time to kill before she had to meet with the shrink, Elliot had suggested lunch.

But they hadn't wound up at a restaurant or a sidewalk café or even a hot dog stand. No, he had instead driven them to an out of the way little motel close enough to the precinct to be convenient, but far enough away that no one would notice them. He checked himself in and led her to one of those sacred anonymous places behind a locked door. The instant she crossed the threshold behind him, she shut the door and pushed her against the wall. He attacked her lips with his, but he was surprised when she pushed back on his chest.

"Elliot, stop. There's something you need to know before we continue any further," she said. He furrowed his brow and stared at her. Her brown eyes had darkened with lust, and there was no hiding that she was turned on, but this needed to be said.

"Later," he said, attacking her neck with his lips.

"No, now," she said, pushing him back again. She waited for a minute while he cooled off enough to realize she was serious about talking.

"What, Liv?" he asked, exasperated.

"If we're going to continue, I need to know if you can handle…being with me," she said.

"What are you talking about? I'm absolutely crazy about you," he said.

"I'm not…plain old vanilla sex, quite frankly, bores me," she told him. He stared at her as if she had just grown a second head.

"What are you saying?" he asked.

"I mean, I enjoy…games," she said, running a finger along his chest.

"But you…we've never…" he stuttered.

"I was drunk, and that was supposed to be a one time thing. But Elliot, I can't do plain vanilla all the time," she said.

"Hang on…" he began. He had worked sex crimes enough to see where this was going. One partner tying up and beating the other partner. Inevitably, that line was always crossed, and the poor victim wound up in his office. She couldn't possibly be serious…

"After everything we see, day in and day out, you want me to tie you up and beat you so you can get off?" he asked incredulously, immediately pulling back from her. It was despicable. He may have wanted her as his mistress, but he couldn't do those sorts of things to her. It would just degrade her even more. He lowered himself onto the bed and loosened his tie.

"Not exactly," she said. Ok, now he was really confused.

"I mean I like playing with silk scarves and blindfolds and gags and, on occasion, a flogger or a paddle. But _I _like to be the one wielding them," she said. Elliot swallowed hard. This was a twist he hadn't considered. "I'm a hedonist, though."

"Meaning…?" he managed to eek out.

"Meaning I like pleasure. Giving and receiving. If pain can intensify that, then I'm all for it, but nothing should ever actually hurt," she answered.

"So, how does this work, exactly?" he asked.

"Well, assuming you're still interested, we sit down, come up with a safe word, discuss your boundaries, and when we're both clear on what the rules are…" she grinned. "We play." She leaned in closer to his ear. "I will make you cum harder than you ever thought possible, but only if you can play by the rules."

Well, damn.

"You want me to be a…a…_sex slave?_" he exclaimed.

"No, a submissive. There's a difference. While we're at work, everything will be exactly the same as it is now. But when we're alone, you will be expected to follow certain rules and do certain things," she told him. "Believe it or not, the submissive actually has the real power. Like I said, we'll discuss boundaries, and you'll have a safe word that you can use that will stop anything, immediately."

"Why, Olivia? Why do we have to do this?" Elliot asked.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. But this is just the way I'm wired, and this is how I truly enjoy sex. If it's too much for you, then that's fine. I understand. You can crawl back to your wife," she told him. "But Elliot, you should know that I haven't had a dedicated submissive in a long time, and it's not because I haven't had offers. I'm just picky."

"Ok, so give me a for instance…if you were my…what…" he stumbled.

"Mistress. You would address me as either 'Mistress' or 'Ma'am,'" Olivia explained. Well, if that wasn't ironic enough for him. She wouldn't be his mistress, but she would be his Mistress.

"Mistress, what would we do?" he asked. When he said the word, though, he started to feel his groin tighten.

"Well, you would start by stripping, kneeling and waiting for my orders. And then, based on your proclivities, we would go from there. You would probably wind up being tied to the bed, and fucked in some way or another. And we would explore what turns you on and what doesn't. But let me be perfectly clear, Elliot, if you break a rule, I will punish you. It will never cross the line into abuse, but you will be punished," she warned.

"What sort of punishment?" he asked.

"Oh, I could bend you over my knee and spank you…" she said, slightly sultry. "Or I could tease you to the point of insanity and not let you cum…or I could simply refuse to play with you. You have no idea how creative I can be."

"This is really turning you on, isn't it?" he asked her.

"You kneeling at my feet? You bet. And judging by the tent in your pants, I'd say I'm not the only one," she said.

"Ok, ok, Liv. I don't want anything…severe. If we can limit it to you tying me up and maybe some light spanking or flogging, I'm in," he said.

"Good. I'll draw up the papers. Once they're signed, we'll get started," she said and headed for the door.

"Papers? What? And I was thinking maybe we could…" he began, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the bed.

"Yes. Papers. A written agreement that protects both of us. It outlines the limits we've agreed on. I don't ever want to be accused of rape. As for that…" she said, nodding towards the bed. "The next time you fuck me will be on my terms."

Elliot swallowed hard again, wondering exactly what he had gotten himself into.


End file.
